A Nancy Drew Mysyery
by betzo
Summary: Nancy keeps getting kidnapped. She just has to learn why.


When they found me I was tied and gagged in the trunk of my blue Mustang. The police officer who opened the locked trunk by popping the release inside the car was none other than Officer Oliva Rivera.

We were, by now, old friends. She had been the officer that had found me the time before.

"Any damage?" she asked as she helped me from the confines of the trunk.

"Just the usual," I replied once she had taken the gag from my mouth. "Just a sore jaw and a ton of embarrassment."

Oliva worked on the knots that tied my hands. "Got a computerized tip where to find you and we, she nodded toward the patrol car behind us where her partner, a male officer, sat fiddling with something on the dash. "Ben is calling in to let them know we found you."

The police woman looked at me, "Want an ambulance?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so," she said once my hands were free. Then she turned me around to face her and examined my chin with a caring look. "Just a tiny bruise. A little make up... Punched out out?"

I rubbed the sore spot with the tips of my fingers. It felt sore but no worse than usual. "Yep. Have to learn to duck."

"Want to follow us to the station? We'll need a statement."

"I suppose. Was my purse in the front seat? As usual? My car keys are in it." I said.

The purse was and they were.

My statement was brief and inconclusive. Whoever it was that had knocked me out and stuffed me in the trunk could not be identified by me. I hadn't an inkling as to who it was, as my statement revealed. I had been in Dad's and my house, walking from the bedroom to the living room when "Presto' out of the closet my assailant jumped. They were wearing a black ski mask and black from head to toe. After that, well there was nothing to tell and that was all I saw before the punch that knocked me out landed on my chin. It was 'good night Nancy' after that.

I left the matter at hand telling them with a shrug, "That's all I know until I came to in the trunk. You guys know the rest."

The police accepted that.

After all it was the third time in a month it had happened to me. The other times I hadn't a clue who kayoed me and locked me in the trunk of my own car.

Not a clue.

What I didn't tell them in my statement was just before the knockout punch landed, just before the lights went out, I had reached out, instinctively, to block the punch. I had, as we all know, been unsuccessful. The punch had landed but in that brief moment before unconscious came I felt, with my outstretched hand, a very soft chest.

My assailant had been a woman! Or a girl!

I was puzzled myself why I didn't tell the police ALL that I knew. By the time I got home it was clear to me why I hadn't. It was because, I, being Nancy Drew, would find out just who was attacking me. Attacking me over and over. And I'd find out on my own.

Pride? My sleuthing reputation? Vanity? Maybe all those but I, Nancy Drew, would find out who was behind this.

The newspapers had reported the other two attacks. That Nancy Drew had been knocked out, bound and gagged and stuffed in the trunk for the police to find. The first time the reporting had been straight forward. The second time it had been with a touch of sarcasism.

This time, I was sure, it would be mocking. And I don't like being mocked!

Felica Reynolds has a TV show on cable and my abduction was right down her alley. My episode was the opening segment and she spared me nothing.

Felica was a youngish blond, about 30, with untanned skin and a crisp speaking voice. When her TV show had first been shown it had been an over night sensation. She commented on social issues and current crime stories, from her point of view, of course. Facts didn't always stand in the way of what her opinions were.

After a few months her ratings had plunged as the public, apparently, grew weary of her.

"Good old Nancy Drew, number one girl detective in our fair city, was at it again." Felica said as she opened her show. "She was found trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in the trunk of her own car. Once again. Seems the girl detective, who has a nose for solving perplexing criminal cases, is now, the star of one, except she is now the victim, not the sleuth. Is Nancy Drew losing her touch? To me, Felica Reynolds, that does seem to be the case. Nancy was knocked out and kidnapped for the third time within a month, and the poor girl hasn't the slightest idea as to why and as to whom is behind her abduction.

Later in the show I'll have a chat with the newest girl detective in town, Emily Coleman. Emily has, just recently, opened up her own Detective Agency and has said, if Ms. Drew asks, she's love to help solve the strange goings on. As she confided in me 'Can't do worse than Nancy Drew has".

The TV screen went dark suddenly. I turned to George, my good friend George Fayne, who was sitting on the couch beside me. In her hand was the remote still pointing toward the TV.

"Hey!" I said.

"Enough of her," George said. "I won't listen to her make fun of my very best friend."

George was wearing a white cotton skirt, red sleeveless, collared blouse that had the two top buttons undone. George, usually tomboyish and athletic, recently had completely changed her wardrobe. Whereas it was once jeans and flannel shirts, or tees she now had turned to more dainty and more feminime clothes, which I liked. Liked a lot. Her dark hair was still short but she was letting it grow longer and though it didn't yet reach her shoulders, it was getting close. And there was a pink barrette clipped to the left side.

"George," I said taking the remote from her hand. "I'm okay with her criticism. She has a right..."

"Not a right to be nasty," George snapped. "You don't have to sit here and be mocked by the likes of her."

"It's alright. She's just trying to renew interest in her show. The ratings have been tough lately and she needs the boost."

George pouted for a second, a curled lower lip, her green eyes sad. "I hate it when you are so understanding."

I flipped the show back on just as Felica was introducing her guest for the night. "And I'd like my audience to meet Emily Reynolds. She is River Heights newest girl detective. She has opened an office on Grant Street and we sure hope she'll take the smear off 'girl detective' that now seems to be hovering over our fair town thanks to Nancy Drew."

I looked carefully as Emily Reynolds was seated. Yes, she appeared to be a capable young woman...girl? I guessed her to be in her early twenties.

Tall, dark haired with an air of confidence about her. She stared directly at the camera with a slight smile on her mouth.

"Emily? What's your take on the Nancy Drew happenings? I mean, being kidnapped three times in one month, makes one think the sleuthing girl has seen her best days. The truth is she looks ridicules in all this."

"I don't want to be too harsh. Nancy Drew has been an icon to say the least. She has solved many a difficult case and has brought much attention to all of us 'girl detectives'. But, as you, I have to question whether she is now a blight to any girl who wants to showcase her skills." Emily said this with a false tone of sadness in her voice.

"Do you," Felica asked, "think you could better serve the community?"

Emily Reynolds gave a curt nod. "Without question." She leaned forward and captured the camera. "I'm in the phone book, Nancy. I'm not free but I am good at what I do."

George, next to me folded her arms across her chest. "Just a girl trying to make a go of it,"

I tried to smile but George's obvious distress alarmed me. And I gave her hand a squeeze.

George turned to me. "Nancy? Why don't you just quit. You solve mysteries out of the kindness of your heart. You receive nothing in return for it." George waved a hand toward the television. "And this is what you get in return. Plus. it's dangerous. You might be killed."

I could see George was past upset. And to tell the truth, despite my protests, what the two were saying was hurtful. I was a confident girl but still, being talked about, demeaned, cut me to the core.

"Nancy," George said, "I love you and it isn't right how they are talking. It simply is not fair."

"Oh George," I replied squeezing her hand in mine as I lied. "I'm okay. I'm not the least thin skinned. They can say all they want. I'm just going to ignore it. And," I added, "I love you too. As much as you love me."

George shook her head. "That's not possible. Not possible at all."

I locked George's eyes with mine and thought of asking her just what she meant by what she had said but George lowered her eyes and quickly left the room.

"Okay," I told myself, "if nothing else I had two suspects. Two people who would benefit from my embarrassment at being kidnapped."

Of the three times I'd been kidnapped not once had I really seen my attacker. Only during the last kidnapping had I got the merest glimpse and seen, no felt, it was a woman kidnapper. Only that much before she had knocked me out. After that just the blackness of unconsciousness.

Both women on the TV screen looked fit. They, both Felicia and the girl detective, Emily , didn't look as if they were strangers to the gym. Both were displaying bare arms that weren't muscular but they did have what is called 'definition'. They were pretty and they were fit, flat stomachs, long athletic legs. It was clear to me that either of them would have no trouble knocking a girl, such as me, out cold with one punch.

I guessed that once I had been knocked out I had to be carried and dumped in the trunk of my Mustang. I'm not heavy but unconscious I would be a burden? I had to wonder if either was strong enough to do that. Watching them I decided that both of them were up to doing that if they had to.

And there was also Courtney Kay, my high school. envious, classmate. Despite being a prom queen, cheerleader captain, field hockey star, she always had it in for me. Who would have thought her so insecure? Nothing would have thrilled her more than to see me pictured as a bumbling girl sleuth.

She was the first one I had thought of as being my attacker. Except... the first kidnapping had occurred while I was still at school, in a deserted library. Most of the students and teachers had left for home. Those that stayed were at field hockey practice or band. I was shelving books when I was bonked over the head. When I came to I was, you guessed it, in the trunk of my Mustang. Courtney was practicing her field hockey skills at the time so she hadn't been the one who knocked me out.

The second attack was as I was getting in my car to drive home. The assailant had been hiding, slumped in the back seat. I never looked behind me when I climbed in. The chloroformed soaked rag put me out like a light in seconds. George, who rode home with me, found me missing, keys still in the ignition. She called the police who found me unconscious in the trunk.

The third time was two days ago. Same results.

A check at the TV studio revealed Felica Reynolds was editing her TV show at the time I was kidnapped. And Emily Coleman was at a seminar with hundreds of witnesses to attest she was.

I was hoping one of those three were the woman I had seen in black. The woman who had knocked me out and stuffed me in the trunk of the Mustang.

I had one last avenue, the police. I asked the police to run a fingerprint check of my room and the closet the woman in black had been hiding in when she ambushed me. My name carries some weight in River Heights. Dad's name carries even more.

Th results? The detective called and said, basically, zip was the results. Dad's fingerprints, Hannah's, Bess' and George's were all over. As were mine, naturally, so that was a dead end.

"Sorry," he said as he hung up.

I sat by the phone. Then it hit me.

I went to my Mustang and drove over to Felica Coleman's TV studio. I asked for air time to rebut her. She, with an eye on the ratings I'm sure, agreed to it immediately.

Felica was at her lovliest that night. Hair perfect. Make-up by experts. A light green dress that showed off her figure well.

I, in my blue blazer, white blouse, powder blue skirt sat in the chair beside her.

"Tonight, as promised, we have none other than Nancy Drew with us. Ms. Drew as you know is the world famous girl detective from River Heights. Lately her skills do not seem to match her reputation for in the last month she has been kidnapped no less than three times. And, as of the moment neither the police, nor Ms. Drew, have the slightest inkling as to who is behind these occurances. Needless to say Nancy Drew looks more like a damsel in distress than a clever, girl detective."

At this point Felica turned to me. "Is that a fair assessment Ms. Drew?"

I cleared my throat and looked directly at the camera, ignoring Felica's smug smile.

"As a matter of fact, I now know who is behind my kidnappings."

"Oh," Felica said stunned. "There's going to be an arrest?"

"No. There will be no arrest. I didn't say that. I merely said I solved who is behind my kidnappings. I must admit I had been looking, from the start, in the wrong direction."

"But if you know who it was that knocked you out, tied you up and stuffed you in the trunk of your car THREE TIMES! Surely, since you know who it was, there will be an arrest."

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because I choose not to press charges."

Felica's mouth flew open.

"Uh. You mean...? How do I know you know who is behind your kidnappings if you don't give us their name?"

I shrugged. "If it happens again then you'll know I was not sure who is my kidnapper, and that I am wrong. But I can assure you, it won't happen again since I've already talked to them and they are very regretful and have promised to not kidnap me again."

Felica emited a laugh. "So your telling me, and my audience, you will never be kidnapped again?"

"No. I'm not saying that. As everyone knows I, Nancy Drew, does dangerous things, and am in dangerous situations with unsavory characters willing to stop me with whatever means possible. I'm a girl sleuth so I expect to be knocked out, tied up and come to in the hull of ghost ships, or the cellars of dark houses. I've been hit over the head, chloroformed more times than I can count so I expect it to happen again. It goes with the territory as they say. No. What I can promise is the person behind my latest...adventures, let's call it, won't be doing it again."

"Oooooooooooh?" was all Felica could say.

"And if necessary they will come forward and collaborate my statement."

When I returned home that night George was waiting for me on the porch.

"Thanks Nancy," George said giving me a hug. "I was just scared for you. That someday something bad would happen to you. I guess I lost my head."

"I told you I love you as much as you love me." I said hugging George back. "And thanks for caring for me as much as you do."

THE END


End file.
